“My God,” Relington slurred in a hoarse whisper, “Straeford doesn’t deserve such good luck…”
“Lud,” Ann Harding seemed to come out of nowhere. “I’ve really enjoyed myself today. What about you, Lord Relington?”
“Eh?” He caught himself up. “Yes, real fine day.”
“Is everyone riding in the morning, Marisa?”
“I’m not sure if the Clarksons will be or not.”
“I understand that Lady Relington is an excellent horsewoman. Isn’t that right, Lord Thomas?” Ann Harding continued to insinuate herself upon them until Relington finally withdrew. “I queered his pitch, didn’t I?” Ann laughed.
“And I can’t thank you enough. His greedy eyes were… devouring me. I was extremely uncomfortable.”
“He’s a loose screw. Always chasing some female.”
“I can’t imagine his being very successful.”
“There are some women who don’t mind balding heads and paunches, but I ain’t one of them.”
“Ann, you mustn’t talk like that,” Marisa chided her although her eyes danced with merriment. “Think of poor Amanda.”
“That one! Why she’s nothing but a brass-faced monkey! Worse than her husband.”
“I do wish the earl hadn’t invited them here.”
“But he had to if he wants a command for the summer campaign.”
“Yes, he did mention something about that to me.”
“Well, you know Amanda Relington practically invited herself to the Park when Justin was in London, and…” Ann stopped abruptly and then stammered, “Oh, I didn’t mean to speak of that. I’m such a paperskull! Ed will have my head. Justin told him in the strictest confidence.”
Marisa was not listening to Ann’s protest. Her whole being was concentrating on the implication of her previous remarks concerning Amanda and Justin. “Just what is Lady Relington to the earl, Ann?”
“Oh, no, you are wrong! Justin is not a rakeshame, Marisa.”
“But he is not above using people to gain…” she clapped her hand over her mouth remorsefully. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Perhaps we both said more than we should tonight, but that’s what friends are for. And we are friends, aren’t we, Marisa?”
“Of course we are, Ann. Your friendship is very important to me.” They were clasping each other’s hands when Edward Harding joined them.
“Hey, what are the two of you whispering about over here?”
“Fiddle dee dee, wouldn’t you like to know?” Ann smiled mischievously and tweaked his chin.
“I think, my dear, that I should be much better off not knowing.” He grinned and Ann made a face at him. “Now, be a good girl and wish our hostess a pleasant goodnight. We’re the last to turn in.”
After making a quick survey of the room, Ann kissed Marisa’s cheek and whispered, “We shall talk another time.” Then taking her husband’s arm, they left Marisa alone. Watching them go arm in arm in perfect harmony with one another, Marisa felt a twinge of envy. Their love and affection for each other was evident in every look and action that passed between them. She sighed, her earlier optimism over the success of the weekend having completely vanished, deciding there was little point in waiting for Straeford to reappear from wherever he had taken himself, Marisa went into the hallway only to quickly step back into the shadows as she witnessed her husband kissing the palm of Lady Relington’s hand. As the earl lifted his head, Amanda traced the outline of his rugged jawline with her fingertips. Marisa closed her eyes wishing to erase the intimacy of the gestures from her mind. For one wild second she thought of confronting them, but when she opened her eyes Amanda was already going up the stairs, and Straeford was crossing to the library. She was tempted to follow him and denounce his behavior except it would serve little purpose. Either he would laugh at her suspicions and deny them or abuse her and admit it. In either case she would be humiliated and it would change nothing, because he would do exactly as he pleased without a thought for her feelings in the matter.
A servant dousing the candles finally gave Marisa the impetus to move. Knowing that if she met the earl at this precise moment she would not remain silent about what she had seen, Marisa quietly tiptoed past the library and hurried upstairs to her own room.
The other riders galloped off around the bend leaving Marisa quite alone on the trail. Although her heart was heavy, she was trying very hard to enjoy the clear, bright day with its first signs of spring. Some early-budding trees and flowering forsythia were already announcing the advent of the new season. Soon it would burst forth in all its glory. Yet, no matter how she tried to concentrate on the beauty surrounding her, the tormenting suspicion of Straeford’s infidelity clouded her vision.
Ahead, the rest of the party had reached the stony brook that bordered the edge of the Park.
“I don’t see why we have to wait for your wife, Justin, obviously she wishes to be alone.” Amanda was pouting. Straeford had not come to her room last night as she had anticipated he would. What was wrong with the man? Hadn’t she promised to use her influence to see that he had a command this summer? If he thought a kiss on the hand was enough show of appreciation, he had another thought coming. Amanda nudged her horse closer to the earl’s. “Lady Straeford is such a timid little creature for such a big brute as yourself, my lord.”
Relington watched his wife, hoping she would not overplay her hand where the earl was concerned. He wanted Amanda to succeed in making his lordship her next lover. It would afford him a better opportunity in capturing the reluctant countess for himself. Unfortunately, he had his doubts whether his wife or he were going to be successful. So far the Straefords were not playing the game as he had expected they might.
“I’m going to look for my wife,” the earl announced suddenly and galloped off before Amanda Relington could utter a protest.
“Wait for me!” she called after him and would have followed had not Relington grasped her reins. “Let me go!”
“Don’t be a fool! Don’t push your luck.”
Amanda brought her riding crop down across her husband’s hand and spurred her horse forward.
Galloping hoofbeats drew Marisa’s attention, and she brought her horse to a halt just as her husband appeared over the crest of the hill and started down the rise toward her. “What kept you?” he shouted as he came in range. “I thought you might have had trouble with the mare.”
The concern in his voice lifted her spirits. “Why no. I simply was enjoying the scenery. I’m sorry you had to come back for me. Are the others waiting at the stream?”
“It doesn’t matter. It was time we were turning back.” He was glad to see that the aloof look which had haunted the countess’s eyes all morning had disappeared. “The sooner we return to the manor house, the sooner our guests will leave. I see you agree.” A brilliant smile accompanied his last words as his wife beamed her approval. Involuntarily he took one of her straying curls in his hand and tucked it behind her ear, and then he lightly caressed her cheek with his thumb. The gentleness of his gesture brought a warm blush to her face. Shyly she met his emerald gaze only to be surprised by a look of uncertainty and tenderness glowing from their depths. Their brief interlude of quiet intimacy was ruthlessly shattered, however, by the arrival of Amanda Relington shouting Justin’s name.
Her arrival brought an end to their pleasant exchange, and the trio of glum horsemen made their way back to the manor house hardly exchanging a word the entire distance.
Shortly after noon both the Hardings and the Relingtons departed for London. Only the Clarksons remained behind so that Straeford might have a private conversation with Sir Francis, and they closeted themselves in the library leaving the two women alone together. Lydia Clarkson was a tall, thin lady in her fifties. She had spoken very little to anyone during the weekend, and Marisa doubted her ability to hold a conversation for very long with this austere woman.
“I’m sorry that your departure has been delaye
d, Lady Clarkson.”
“Don’t fret, my child, I’m sure Sir Francis will not be delayed by Lord Straeford for long. Wives must accustom themselves to their husband’s ways. I’m sure you will adjust to the earl’s behavior in time.”
Marisa was surprised by the woman’s strange comment. “I do not know what you mean.”
“No, of course, you don’t. It’s simply intuition. You see, I knew the earl’s father and Justin is very much like him.”
Without thinking Marisa asked what her husband’s father had been like.
“He was a difficult man to understand. Very proud and very aloof. He didn’t care much for society, and spent most of his time away from home fighting in the colonies.”
“That must have been hard on his family.”
“Yes, very. Especially for his young and beautiful wife. She was alone so much of the time during her first marriage. How happy we all were for her when she married Ellsworth. She was truly happy. And then all those tragedies struck.”
Marisa felt her heart pounding in her throat and ears and she asked almost inaudibly, “What tragedies?” and held her breath waiting for the answer.
“Why, losing her second husband and her eldest son so close together and in such mysterious ways. Then there was that final break with Justin. It led some people to say the most dreadful things about him.”
In the name of loyalty Marisa could not allow this woman to say another word. “Lady Clarkson, I suggest we change the subject.”
“Oh, of course, my dear, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
It was apparent to Marisa, now, that Lydia Clarkson meant to drop every word of venom she had just uttered. But why?
“Sorry, my dear,” Sir Francis came into the room with the earl, “but this young man has been trying to convince me that one of the commands for the summer campaign should be his. And I had to explain my concerns to him. After all, Lord Straeford just came home in January in a state of exhaustion and…”
“That’s not true, sir. It was a mild fever I couldn’t shake because of our constant moving about. Once in England I recovered quickly enough.”
This was all news to Marisa. Her brother John had led her to believe the earl was in perfect health upon his return from Portugal. If he were not, that would explain in part his neglect of her before they were married. It was becoming more important to her with every passing day that her husband show some tenderness to her.
“It is a family tradition.” She heard Straeford saying.
“But you’ve just married a lovely young lady. Why would you wish to desert this winsome creature?” Clarkson lightly kissed Marisa’s hand.
“Duty, sir,” Straeford replied tersely.
“Very admirable. Yet I worry about a man who places too much emphasis on duty and forgets personal matters.” There was a significant pause before he continued. “You’re very much like your father, Straeford. And I would not wish you to repeat his mistakes.”
Marisa held her breath as she watched the earl struggle to keep his temper under control. “You choose to use the term ‘mistakes’, but my father did not view his life in that way.”
“Don’t mean to speak out of turn—but family problems can interfere with a man’s performance of duty…” Clarkson’s obvious reference to Straeford’s parents shocked Marisa.
At first the Earl went pale under his tan, and then he flushed hotly with anger. His voice was cold with hostility when he finally spoke. “My performance as a soldier has never been affected by personal problems!”
“Sir Francis,” Marisa found herself intervening, hoping to prevent any further antipathy. “Didn’t you tell us over dinner yesterday that his lordship is without a doubt one of Britain’s ‘winningest officers’?”
“Well, yes, I did,” he admitted reluctantly.
“If that isn’t the only criterion in considering an officer, certainly it must be one of the most essential.” She did not look at the earl, who she knew was regarding her closely. “You must tell me if I am right or wrong, sir,” she smiled sweetly.
Clarkson studied the pretty, intelligent face before him and then began to chuckle. “You know, Straeford, your wife would make a good diplomat. You’re some advocate for your husband, my lady. And for you, I will promise to give the earl’s request my utmost consideration.”
Marisa graciously acknowledged this compliment to her, but she wondered how her husband felt about it. From his expression she could read nothing, but she suspected he was displeased. She anxiously waited for the Clarksons to leave before the earl’s self-restraint gave way.
Fortunately, Clarkson, too, sensed the earl’s disapproval and decided it was best to say no more on the subject and left as soon as possible.
After seeing the Clarksons to their carriage, Straeford returned to his wife who was standing near a window, a thoughtful expression creasing her brow as she absently played with a long strand of pearls about her throat. Leaning against the casement, her relaxed body revealed its curvaceousness beneath the aquamarine muslin, and desire for her stirred within him. He realized that his countess was not only beautiful but dangerous. She was clever and charming; a woman to admire but also be wary of. A most worthy opponent, he admitted to himself. Today she had supported him in his bid for a command. There could be only one explanation for that—she wished to expedite his departure. This weighed heavily on him in spite of his self-esteem, and he dropped into a chair dejectedly.
“Why do the Clarksons dislike you?”
He shrugged indifferently. “Lydia probably has poisoned Sir Francis against me.”
“Why should she do that?”
“You mean Lydia didn’t fill you in on the details?” he jeered. Leaning back he placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers.
“No.” Marisa began to feel guilty for having listened to Lydia Clarkson at all.
“Well, my lady, it’s an old story, one best forgotten.”
“Apparently they have not forgotten.”
“No,” he laughed mirthlessly, “Lydia would not forget. Let it suffice to say she thinks she has an axe to grind.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him and closed his eyes.
Marisa thought he looked tired. Was he that concerned about his chances of receiving a commission, or was it something else? Had he been with Amanda Reling-ton last night?
Straeford opened his eyes to catch his wife regarding him intently. “Is anything the matter?”
Marisa shook her head negatively. “I was just thinking… about the weekend.”
“It was a mistake! Never again!” he declared emphatically.
Seeing his wife’s eyes darken with anguish, Straeford realized she had taken it as an insult to her ability as a hostess. “It has nothing to do with you,” he snapped, rising from the chair and striding across the room and back again. “I was referring to my own stupidity. Arranging a social gathering to further my career. I don’t know why I let myself be talked into it.” Then he added more for his own benefit than hers, “If I don’t merit a command on my ability as an officer, I don’t want it.”
Although Marisa was relieved to know that she had not failed him, she was concerned for his self-reproach and tried to soothe him. “It’s only natural to want to gain favor with those who can fulfill your most cherished desires.”
Her solicitude touched him, but his pride made him resist it all the more. “And what do you know about my ‘most cherished desires’?” he asked sarcastically. “A man desires many things.” His bold gaze raked his wife, causing her to tense visibly. “Of course, a command for me would also be nice for you, too. It would free us from one another without throwing you to the gabblemongers.”
Her chin tilted with hauteur—any tender feelings she was experiencing toward him were erased by his unkind words. “Then I should pray very hard that you receive it.”
“Pray it is not before you and your sister are launched into society,” he taunted, although underneath it all,
he was unaccountably hurt by her rejoinder.
“Since the season is about to begin,” she said wishing to offend him as deeply as he had offended her, “and we are both anxious to put an end to this… honeymoon, I see no reason why we should not leave for London immediately.".
He stiffened at her rapier thrust; nevertheless, he managed to bow extravagantly and smile cynically. “As you wish, madam.”
10
Lady Maxwell inspected the Straefords approvingly as they stood before her in the morning room of her town house. The earl was superbly attired in buff pantaloons and a blue double-breasted coat by Weston, while the countess was exquisitely clothed in a high-waisted morning dress of mauve cambric edged with piping of green velvet. They were such a striking couple—Justin with his dark, chiseled features and autocratic bearing, and Marisa with her flawless ivory complexion and regal carriage. They were bound to be much admired as well as envied this season.
“Sit down, sit down,” snapped the old lady in some exasperation. The recent gossip which had reached her ears spoiled her joy in them.
“I presume this summons was important enough to drag us here on our first day back in town,” Straeford demanded as he seated his wife opposite his grandmother.
“Sufficiently so, I trust. Rumors are flying and I thought it my duty to tell you. What is this nonsense Lady Relington is spreading about the two of you?” She watched the expressions change on each of their faces. Marisa looked alarmed while Justin scowled.
“Since you seem to be in possession of some information we are not, perhaps you would be good enough to explain.”
“Humph, so I will!” There was a lengthy pause before she continued. “Gossip has it that the two of you make your dislike of one another quite evident. I hear you are always stiff and formal with one another—when you are with one another; that you never deem to use each other’s christian names… Need I go on?”
Blushing scarlet, Marisa cast her eyes downward, and Straeford, a thunderous look on his face, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The jade,” he hissed.
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